


May I Have This Dance?

by subtlehysteria



Series: Cinderella AU [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Fluff, Keith is a prince, Lance is Cinderella, M/M, That's it, they're both hopelessy smitten with each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 00:09:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14988509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlehysteria/pseuds/subtlehysteria
Summary: As he descends the final flight of stairs, Lance can’t help his wandering eyes. He’s looking for a very specific mop of black hair, although in this crowd it’s nearly impossible to discern one young man from the next.The crowd of party-goers make his search considerably easier when they part straight down the middle, revealing a man in a ruby-red coat and spotless white breaches on the opposite end of the room. His raven-black hair is tied back with a ribbon, although it does nothing for his wayward bangs. Even so, from this distance, Lance can still see his violet eyes alight with interest.*Lance arrives at the royal ball looking for his new friend, the apprentice Keith. What he doesn't expect is to find a prince in his place.





	May I Have This Dance?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by @kiilia's beautiful [ Klance Cinderella AU ](http://kiilea.tumblr.com/post/173110770286/courage-and-kindness-a-cinderellaau-commission) on Tumblr. I highly recommend you go check out their art, its beautiful!

Lance tries not to faint in the hallway.

He brushes his hands down his jacket, taking some comfort in the softness of the silk. He looks down at himself, checking that nothing is amiss one last final time.

Coran really did go all out. When the fairy had offered to help Lance get ready for the ball, Lance had expected for his father’s jacket to be repaired, for that was all he was hoping for. But Coran had other ideas. What were once tattered shirt sleeves and crinkled blue cuffs was now a beautiful pale blue jacket embroidered with delicate azure vines. Shiny gossamer material was layered atop his shoulders, collar and cuffs, adding just the right amount of sparkle. The material was soft, softer than anything Lance had ever worn, and comfortable, allowing easy movement for possible dancing

_Perhaps Keith would let me have a dance?_

Lance touches lightly at the glass ear-ornament resting comfortably on the arch of his ear, feeling the cool surface underneath his burning fingertips.

 _Just maybe_ , he hopes.

Lance sends one final silent thanks to Coran and, before he can second-guess himself, starts towards the door where two servants stand flanking either side.

“Thank you,” Lance says, nodding to the servants with a smile as they open the doors for him. They look surprised, eyes wide in shock as if they’d never been thanked before. Perhaps they haven’t.

Lance gives them another bright smile each before walking through the doorway. The one on the left returns it. Small, hesitant, but still there.

As he walks through the doorway, Lance can’t help the small gasp that escapes his lips. He’s on a balcony that overlooks the entire ballroom, two curved marble staircases on either side leading down to the dancefloor. The room shimmers in pale silvers and golds, chandeliers dripping rainbow crystals high above his head. Light dances across the room, glinting off every shiny surface. So taken aback from the splendor of the architecture, it takes Lance a good minute to realise that the entire room has hushed. Lance peeks over the balcony railing, looking down to see a sea of pinks, blues and greens. Hundreds of pairs of eyes blink back up at him.

He gives a small squeak as he straightens up, his hands clasped into tight fists at his sides. He tries to make himself feel regal rather than like a scullery maid playing dress-up.

 _Stop it_ , he chastises himself. _You’re here to have fun, just for one night. You deserve to be here, just like anyone else. You’re a person too._

Lance takes a deep breath, steadying himself. He thinks back to what his mother taught him. Shoulders back, chin up and “don’t look down. You don’t want to tumble over your toes, now do you?”

The sound of her laughter tinkles like wind chimes, the image of a sunshine smile tickling his memories. Lance blinks back the tears threatening to spill. His mother would be proud to see him right now, with this beautiful suit, holding himself high in front of all these people. He’s been through so much, and now look where he is. At the palace, partaking in a ball. That is what helps him take the first step down the stairs. (He takes them slowly, one at a time, afraid he might trip and fall.)

When he reaches the mid-way point, he turns to face the crowd properly.

“Bend at the waist, back straight,” his mother says, a gentle hand guiding him through the movement.

He comes back up, meeting the still-stunned eyes of the crowd and he can’t help but smile. _Look at me, mama, I’m doing it! I’m really doing it!_

As he descends the final flight of stairs, he can’t help his wandering eyes. He’s looking for a very specific mop of black hair, although in this crowd it’s nearly impossible to discern one young man from the next.

The crowd of party-goers make his search considerably easier when they part straight down the middle, revealing a man in a ruby-red coat and spotless white breaches on the opposite end of the room. His raven-black hair is tied back with a ribbon, although it does nothing for his wayward bangs. Even so, from this distance, Lance can still see his violet eyes alight with interest.

Slowly, Lance makes his way down the open path, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He looks straight ahead, focusing on one person only. They meet in the middle, standing nearly toe to toe.

“Mr. Keith,” Lance whispers, just for the two of them.

Keith’s eyes are searching, taking in Lance. Lance tries not to squirm.

“It’s you,” Keith finally says, a conviction in his voice.

Lance gives a slight shrug. “Yeah.”

Keith’s eyes shine even brighter (if that were possible).

“Your Highness,” Keith says, inclining his head in a bow. His voice is shaking, just a little. “I would lo- I, I mean, it would do me the, uh, the greatest honour if – if you would let me lead you through this… this first…”

“Dance?” Lance supplies, grinning like a fool. He can’t help it, Keith is far too cute when he’s nervous.

_You mean the prince._

Right. Keith is… Keith is the prince if everyone’s stares are anything to go by.

_I’m talking to the prince._

Keith nods eagerly. “Yes,” he chuckles, “that.”

Lance pushes his nerves away. It’s just Keith, he tells himself, just another young man at a ball.

Lance grins, putting on a regal air as he says, “It would be my greatest honour to accept your kind request, dear sir.”

Keith’s mouth parts in a silent gasp. Quickly, however, he recollects himself. Although when he locks gazes with Lance, there’s a cheeky glint in his eye.

Lance feels something warm and solid slowly wrap around his waist. He jumps a little, looking down to see Keith’s hand tentatively resting at the small of his back. When he looks back up, Keith is waiting with a triumphant smile.

_Smooth, Keith, very smooth._

The music starts, violins and cellos singing a sweet melody as they begin to sway to and fro. When Keith guides them through their first turn, Lance can’t help but notice the stares. Girls are whispering behind their feathered fans while men share funny looks.

Lance meets Keith’s eyes nervously. “They’re all looking at you,” he whispers.

Keith doesn’t hesitate when he says, “No, they’re looking at you.”

“Oh,” Lance breathes.

Keith chuckles, low and rough, before leading Lance through the next step sequence. He’s rather light on his toes, and surprisingly good at this. For some reason, Lance had thought Keith might be a little awkward at dancing.

Just as he thinks it, Lance feels a light pressure on his foot. Keith curses softly under his breath. Lance catches Keith’s eyes, sees the apology, the nerves causing a furrow to Keith’s brow. But when Lance smiles, giving a soft laugh, Keith’s face relaxes, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips.

Before Lance can give a smart comment, Keith whips him around so they face one another. His one hand is tucked behind his back, the other guiding Lance’s free hand up and down in a gentle wave, like the lazy flapping of a bird’s wing. Lance copies him, keeping his posture straight, just like his mother taught him. But it’s so hard not to lean into Keith as he spins him under his arm, to touch his cheek to Keith’s as they stand a breath’s width apart, their hands clasped above their heads. Keith’s palms are calloused, not what Lance would expect of royalty. Although, Keith doesn’t really seem like your typical prince, the one that appears untouchable, perfectly sculpted like marble. No. No, Keith stumbles a little on their next turn, bites his lip as he tries to hold back another curse word. He giggles along with Lance as they share a conspiratorial look. He blows his over-grown bangs out of his eyes with irritancy, much to both Lance’s and his amusement. He is like a sculpture made of wood, Lance decides – rougher around the edges, not quite as smooth – but full of character and far more interesting to look at.

Lance is caught off guard when Keith gathers him in his arms, taking a waltz stance. He catches on quick enough. Placing a light hand on Keith’s shoulder, the other resting in the cup of Keith’s open palm, they step back and follow the three-four count of the string quartet. It’s almost like second nature to Lance. He loved dancing when he was little, his mother allowing him to rest his then-small feet upon hers as she taught him the steps, improvising dips and twirls to a young Lance’s squealing delight.

Lance follows Keith’s lead, trusting him. He leans into each turn, looking over his left shoulder just like his mother taught him years and years ago. He closes his eyes, enjoying the dizzy feeling.

Keith spins him out, their hands on the brink of breaking, only to pull him back in again. In, out. Together for a breath and then reaching to opposite sides of the room, then coming together once more. Their hands never leave one another.

Keith guides him into the next position, Lance’s back pressed to his chest, Keith’s arm circled around Lance’s waist. Lance rests his hand upon Keith’s, the other tangling fingers with Keith’s free hand. It’s not really proper form, but he can’t help it. He loves the feeling of Keith’s palm pressed to his. And if the blush blooming across the bridge of Keith’s nose is anything to go by, then Keith might like it too. They step-ball-change together, Keith’s feet occasionally knocking into Lance’s heels but he doesn’t care. It’s part of the fun.

They return once more to the waltz, but this time they step wider, causing girls to pick up their skirts and men to kick up their heels as they stumble back out of their way. They lock eyes, sharing a grin.

The music swells and Lance lets out a bubble of laughter as Keith takes a corner a bit too tightly, causing them both to trip up. Keith balances himself with a wild wave of his arms. When he straightens up, he looks about, anxious. Lance brings a finger under Keith’s chin, guiding his eyes back to him.

“Don’t worry about them,” he whispers. “It’s just a dance. It’s meant to be fun, not perfect.”

Keith nods, the corner of his mouth begging to break into a smile. The furrow in his brow smooths out as he takes Lance into his arms once more. They share a smile before continuing where they left off as if nothing had happened.

The music builds and builds, and Lance feels light headed and cotton-stuffed as they continue twirling in circles. Keith takes a hold of both of Lance’s hands. He guides them under the bridge of their arms, their hands breaking apart for a moment as Keith spins on his heel, coattails flying behind him.

“I don’t remember that step,” Lance said, arching a brow.

Keith shrugs, grinning. “It’s just a dance.”

Lance’s smile broadens as they come together once again, moving into the final sequence. Keith guides him around the room, their steps more fluid. It was as if they were made to dance with one another.

“Hold on,” is Keith’s only warning before Lance feels a tight grip on his waist. He puts his hands on Keith’s shoulders on instinct, jumping to help make the lift easier. Lance looks up at the ceiling, watching painted clouds swirl above their heads as Keith turns slowly on the spot. It almost feels like flying.

His feet touch the ground all too soon, Keith spinning him out once more before dipping him low. Keith’s bangs tickle Lance’s nose, which he wriggles, trying to hold back a sneeze.

Keith’s cheeks turn nearly as red as his jacket.

They lock eyes and for a moment, for that last little sigh from a solo violin, it’s just them. No crowd, no jewels or servants or towering golden arches. Just him and Keith, two boys dancing to the beat of their hearts.

Keith swallows thickly, blinking rapidly as if he had just awoken from a dream.

 _Maybe this is a dream_ , Lance thinks with a tinge of sadness. _But if it is_ , a small voice, his mother’s voice whispers, _it’s truly a once-in-a-lifetime dream_.

That it is. And Lance was determined to relish every second of it.

Lance looks up at Keith, blowing his inky bangs out of the way so he can share a smile. He hears Keith’s breath catch, watches as Keith’s eyes dash quickly down to his lips and then back up.

Lance wants to say something, but there are honestly no words to describe this feeling. It’s too wonderful, too strange and unreal and extraordinary to try and put into words. Instead, he tilts his chin up, bumping his nose with Keith’s.

He feels Keith’s hands scrabble, slipping on the silk of his jacket. He giggles unashamedly as Keith tries not to overbalance them.

Keith rightens them both, a hand still lightly placed at the small of Lance’s back.

“Sorry,” Keith murmurs.

“It’s okay,” Lance chuckles.

Keith gives one final shy look full of _something more_ before pulling away. His hand disappears behind his back as he bows. Lance returns the gesture, willing his heart not to burst out of his chest. The last few notes of the song are smothered in applause. But Lance can’t hear it. Can’t hear people calling _bravo!_ or whispers of _who is he?_ because Keith is beaming at him, his smile so big his eyes are crinkling in the corners. His hair is a mess, the ribbon coming undone, and his cheeks are rosy red (from the dancing or the endless amount of adorable blushing, Lance can’t tell). Keith’s glowing with pride and… happiness, Lance realises. He looks so happy, so carefree.

Lance had done that. Lance is the reason why Keith looks so relaxed for the first time since this evening started.

_I just danced with a prince._

_No_ , Lance amended as he smiled at the wild young man in front of him. _I just danced with Keith._

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [ @subtlehysteria ](https://subtlehysteria.tumblr.com/)


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